GypsyThe crazed man loosened the cap on the metal barrel, pulled a length of rubber hose from a box and started to siphon some of the liquid into a tomato can. A familiar odor was wafted upward to the waiting pair.
“Gasoline,” breathed Dave.
“I’m goin’ ta send ya where ya won’t bother no more, ya hound,” snarled the man. “A fair drenchin’ o’ gas, an’ a fling of the torch’ll make ya sizzle. Ya can tell Blackie ta stay put, fer me. He won’t have ta ride ’round with ya—not he. Ha—a—a. Ol’ Bill’ll fool ’em. Ghosts ain’t goin’ ta get in with you no more.”
Clem nudged her brother, put her lips close to his ear, and whispered rapidly: “Dave, things are going to happen in a hurry. One way we may have to go. See, from this ledge it’s nearly fifteen feet straight down to the water. That’ll give u
